


Everyday Miracles

by Vitreous_Humor



Series: Set Fire to Our Bed [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bureaucracy, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dominant Crowley (Good Omens), Feelings, Humor, M/M, Original Angel Characters - Freeform, Referenced Kink, kinda dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitreous_Humor/pseuds/Vitreous_Humor
Summary: “Wait. Wait. So what you're telling me is some angelic abacus-flicker gets a neat little report of whatever miracle it is you've done here, whether it's getting my clothes off, or conjuring up a 1770s soldier's kit, or opening-”“Yes!  I mean. Yes, and while I'm certainly not ashamed of anything I've done with you, it is a bit too much to have it exposed to someone who isn't involved, isn't it?"***Crowley starts wondering about some of Aziraphale's miracles in bed, and Aziraphale forgets that bureaucracy, Heavenly or not, is still bureaucracy.





	Everyday Miracles

“Fuck's sake, how many was that?”

Still flat on his face, slight silly grin only half-hidden by the pillow, Aziraphale waved at the question in a friendly and companionable way.

'Oh, darling, at least two or three.”

“That was at least five by my count, angel.”

“Well, _I _wasn't counting. I might accuse you of inflating your numbers for pride's sake, but I suppose you were in a better position to keep track-

“No, not _orgasms_.”

Aziraphale made an agreeable sound and turned over with his back to Crowley. He had largely gotten around Heaven for thousands of years with a very similar tactic. _Pleasant noise, pleasant noise, oops just let me keep on ignoring that. _It made him something of a poor listener, but his true form had nine-hundred and ninety-nine eyes after all, not nine-hundred and ninety-nine ears.

Crowley, however, was at least a thousand times more perceptive than Heaven, and undaunted, he half-slithered, half-vaulted his way over Aziraphale's side, coming to rest with a thump right next him, almost nose to nose.

“Angel?”  
Crowley tentatively reached over to stroke back a few errant strands of pale hair. Glasses off, his yellow eyes could look almost startlingly vulnerable.

“All right, if you must know, it was six. Six miracles.”

“Well, one was to get my clothes off, but there were a couple before that, right? And a few after?”

“Two before, four after. I hadn't thought you would notice.”

“I do. And I notice that you do it just about every time we fuck, too.”

Aziraphale jumped a little at hardness in Crowley's tone. He knew him too well to think it was an attack of any sort, but it _was _armor, a sign that Crowley was looking for tools with which to defend himself. That certainly didn't belong in bed with them, outside of certain pre-negotiated and understood circumstances.

“Crowley?”

“I _said _we didn't have to do any of this if you weren't completely and utterly all right with it, angel,” Crowley growled. “And if this is making you feel like you need to... _make it up _to the world for enjoying my cock in your corporation, or having yours in mine...”

Aziraphale reached for Crowley, landing a heavy hand on the side of Crowley's neck. It wasn't a threat, but it was a reminder that Aziraphale did not _care for it _when Crowley went off in his own head and assumed he knew what Aziraphale thought and felt. Aziraphale might not have minded if Crowley thought him something of a monster, but what Crowley then took that to mean about himself... well, that wasn't tolerated.

Crowley got the message, shutting up, and Aziraphale sighed again.

“Darling, if you had wanted to know about all that, you should have asked me.”

“Asking now, aren't I?”

“Well, I suppose you are. All right. First, I want you to know that I am not doing it to make it up to anyone. I have spent the last six thousand years doing good on this planet, and if I want to take a few hours or days or weeks to enjoy myself, I'm not going to be sorry for it, or as you put it, spend time worrying about making it up to anyone.”

“But those miracles...”

Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley blinked, an intrigued look on his face.

“What? What could those miracles possibly be about?”

“Oh, well, if you must know, I suppose it's a kind of camouflage. A... misdirection, as we say in magic circles.”

“You got kicked out of the Magic Circle almost as soon as it got started. And what kind of camouflage could you possibly need? The only magician who's quick enough to sense that sort of thing around here is that bloke in the trench coat, and _he's _certainly not going to give us any trouble...”

“Oh, it's not for the humans at all. It's for. Well. The miracles department. In Heaven.”

“Not following.”

“Well, I don't know how it goes in Hell, but the Department of Miracles is in charge of recording and approving all miraculous acts on Earth. I've been on a rather long leash for thousands of years, but they do get a record of every miracle I perform, and, um. Well. It is rather.. _exposing_, isn't it, some of the things I've...”

“Wait. Wait. So what you're telling me is some angelic abacus-flicker gets a neat little report of whatever miracle it is you've done here, whether it's getting my clothes off, or conjuring up a 1770s soldier's kit, or opening-”

“_Yes! _I mean. Yes, and while I'm certainly not ashamed of anything I've done with you, it is a bit too much to have it exposed to someone who isn't involved, isn't it?”

Aziraphale's voice had hit a rather plaintive note, and Crowley's eyes positively glittered.

“And so you've been... camouflaging it with half-dozen other little miracles. So that no one's going to _notice _when you decide that maybe you want to mess about with having a full doctor's office in your back room for a bit.”

“Sexual exploration is a valid use of my abilities. If I'm going to be properly in tune with the people of this planet, it is nothing less than my responsibility to get a wide variety of different perspectives.”

“Oh yeah, all those orgasms definitely widened your perspectives. Really opened your eyes.”

“Well, they _did_,” Aziraphale said, but then it turned into a yelp on the last word as Crowley threw himself on top of him, kissing him madly, fingers buried in Aziraphale's hair to hold him in place.

“Oh _naughty_ angel,” Crowley hissed between kisses. “Half of what you do, we could handle with an extra few minutes or a quick run down to the pharmacy. The other half, well, that's just being a hedonistic, luxury-loving little being of eternal light, isn't it?”

“Crowley, I-”

“You should be cut off for being such a terrible spendthrift,” Crowley continued, rocking against Aziraphale with an insistent rhythm. “Ought to be banned from so much as getting yourself a parking spot for a month if you can't keep your miracling to yourself. Make you do it all the old-fashioned way. Stripping me with your hands. Getting me ready...”

“I only ever get a parking spot for _you,” _Aziraphale moaned, but he was rapidly losing the thread of things as Crowley started to mouth a line down his throat and his chest, as much bite as kiss.

“And that's even worse, isn't it? Miracles for a bad demon who dealt with his own accounting department years ago. I never asked for it, but you do it anyway...”

“Wait, what did you do with your- Oh! Crowley...”

  
**Department of Miracles **

**Heaven**

“Thoriel? Are you still at it?”

“Nope.”

“I can clearly see that you are. I am literally standing right behind you and watching you.”

“Then it was pretty dumb to ask me if I was still at it, wasn't it?”

Sireniel pursed their lips, snapping their wings in irritation.

“That's not the point. The _point_ is that you have been at that silly game for thirty years now.”

“Thirty-six, actually, come next June.”

“And you're not even ashamed of it. Marvelous. Truly, just the most awe-inspiring show of an angel's focus, dexterity, skill and power.”

“It _is._ You would understand if you just played it once.”

“No thank you. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Yeah, all those _hosannas_ to get to.”

Sireniel flinched. They hated choir. It was much preferable to stay in the rather dusty miracles department, even if Thoriel was the only company to be had. They settled into the creaky office chair next to Thoriel's, arranging their robes neatly around them. They had to admit that there was something oddly soothing about watching the numbers mount up on the black and green screen. Thoriel might have spent thirty-six years playing the game, but Sireniel had likely spent at least a few years watching them.

They were just falling into the rhythm of the spinning shapes when there was a gentle chime.

_Ding._

_Ding-ding._

_Ding._

_Ding._

A series of messages popped up in the corner of Thoriel's screen, one after another. Without missing a beat, the angel approved them and cleared them away before returning to the game screen. Sireniel caught them as they went by: _dog granted five more years of life, seat opened up for tired mother on the bus, clothes vanished, fruit juice into wine, man inspired with new love for life by looking into the face of a baby._

“Do you even read those?”

“Not when I'm this close to winning.”

Sireniel nodded, because thirty-six years in, Thoriel had to be close. Then they thought about it for a moment, considering the lifespans of humans, the limits of 1980s programming, and some other things they had heard from Research and Development a few thousand years ago.

“Thoriel, _can _you win Tetris?”

“Of course. I'm going to be the first.”

Sireniel nodded reluctantly. After thirty-six years, it was probably going to be very impressive when Thoriel won, and if Sireniel was honest with themselves, they wanted to be there to see it.

In the out-of-the-way Department of Miracles, the tinny notes of an endless Korobeiniki mingled with the quiet dings of miracles entered and approved, and the soft eternal afternoon of Heaven rolled on.

**Author's Note:**

> *You know that thing where people buy condoms and then like, buy a half-dozen things to camouflage the fact that they're buying condoms? That's what's happening here. Remember, the cashier just wants to go home. The cashier does not care what you are buying, ever.
> 
> *As someone who writes a lot of sex, the miracling clothes, lube, handcuffs, etc. is SUPER handy, but I ended up wondering who's on the other end approving all of this. 
> 
> *This was going to be fluffier and shorter, but then Crowley had feelings, and Aziraphale had to _take care_ of those feelings. This is more or less the Aziraphale and Crowley from The Price of Feeling better, as evidenced by the fact that Aziraphale's normally meant to have 1000 eyes, not 999.
> 
> *Nope, no idea what Crowley did with his own accounting department.
> 
> *The Magic Circle is the UK's society of magic.
> 
> *The bloke in the trench coat is probably John Constantine, who I have a feeling Crowley mistook for Sting sometime back in 1990. Complications ensued.


End file.
